An Agent for Clara

by Nerys Leigh

  “That’s what comes of spending four days on a train and then getting up before seven in the morning to go running,” she pointed out.

  He lowered his hand. “Physical training is important for an agent. We never know when we might be called on to chase down a criminal, or even fight one.”

  Her eyes strayed to his shirt sleeve where the way he sat caused the fabric to strain across a well-developed muscle. She had to admit — only to herself, of course — that whatever calisthenics he did were working.

  “As long as the criminal chooses to run away or fight you during the day,” she said, “when you aren’t half asleep.”

  He pulled a watch from his pocket and flipped it open. “It’s after ten. It’s perfectly reasonable to be tired at this time of night.”

  “I’m not tired.”

  “I’ll remind you of this conversation tomorrow morning when you are.” He rose from the settee. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

  She returned to reading her book as he walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

  Ten minutes later, he returned in his pajamas, carrying a blanket and pillow.

  She heaved an exaggerated sigh and rose from the chair. “Fine, I’ll go to bed. But if I’m lying awake for hours because it’s far too early for sleep, I’m blaming you.”

  He dropped the bedding onto the settee and waved her away as he reached up to turn off the gas light pendant. “I’m sure I’ll find a way to live with the guilt.”

  Smiling, she headed for the bedroom. “Goodnight, Toby.”

  “Tobias.”

  She glanced back at the door to see him sitting on the settee. He removed his spectacles to place them onto the low table in front of him, then he pulled his legs up onto the settee as he lay down, squirming around for a few seconds in an effort to fold his tall frame onto the short settee.

  With a pang of guilt, she realized it might have been more than rising early that had caused his tiredness. It couldn’t have been easy to sleep in such an awkward position. And it was all her fault for trying to be clever and getting them a suite.

  Sighing, she retreated into the bedroom and closed the door.

  There was no way she’d be able to get to sleep now.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Get up.”

  Tobias’ pillow shot from beneath his head, startling him from almost-sleep. He opened his eyes to see his blanket fly off him to join the pillow.

  “What are you doing?”

  Clara stood beside the settee, the pillow and blanket bunched in her arms. “Get up and go sleep on the bed. I’ll take the settee.”

  Her dark hair was unpinned and spilling over her shoulders, the light from the open bedroom door glistening in its rich depths. For a moment, all he could do was stare.

  Until his brain finally caught up with what she’d said.

  “No. Go back to bed, and give me my blanket and pillow back.” He reached up to take them from her hands.

  She backed out of reach. “You can’t sleep like that. You’re too tall for the settee. It’ll be better for both of us if you sleep on the bed.”

  He sat up and took his spectacles from the table. “How will it be better for you?”

  She glanced away, looking awkward. “Because then I won’t have to feel guilty for getting us this suite and depriving you of a bed. Although it is a very nice suite.”

  “So you admit you were wrong and we should have taken the two rooms?”

  It was probably ungentlemanly to feel good about that, but he did anyway. Although perhaps he hadn’t needed to point it out. Manners weren’t an easy thing to maintain when he was tired and dragged from almost-sleep.

  “I admit no such thing,” she said. “Now get up. My feet are getting cold.”

  His eyes dropped to her bare feet. He’d never considered that feet could be pretty, but they were certainly a lot prettier than his.

  And there were ankles.

  He forced his gaze back to her face. “I’m not going to take the bed while you sleep out here. Now give me back my blanket and pillow.”

  She backed away another step, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “If you want them, you’ll have to come and get them.”

  He tried to ignore the heat her perfectly innocent words sent through him. If he hadn’t been before, he was certainly wide awake now.

  Closing his eyes for a moment, he attempted to regain control of himself. When he opened them again, she was still halfway across the room with his bedding.

  He had no idea what game she was playing, but if she wanted him to go and get his blanket and pillow, he’d go and get them. And then he’d go right back to sleep. On the settee.

  Sighing, he rose to his feet and plodded towards her. “This isn’t funny…”

  Before he could finish his sentence, she darted around him, threw herself onto the settee, and stuffed the pillow beneath her head. “I’m here now. Go to bed.”

  Now she was beginning to annoy him. He stomped back to the settee. “Get up.”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m your training agent so I’m in charge here, and I’m ordering you to get up.”

  “I’m disobeying orders.”

  He reached down to take the blanket from her, but she clamped her arms so tight around it that she would have ended up on the floor if he’d pulled it away. He briefly considered that option anyway. At least it would get her off the settee.

  Straightening, he looked at the open bedroom door. “I can’t leave you to sleep out here.”

  “Why not? I left you to sleep out here last night.”

  “Because a gentleman doesn’t leave a lady to sleep on a settee while he takes the bed. It would be the height of bad manners.” His mother would have a fit, if she knew.

  Clara waved a magnanimous hand without releasing the blanket. “I give you permission to have bad manners. Go to bed.”

  He looked back down at her. She wasn’t very big. He could easily scoop her from the settee and carry her back to the bed. Although he had taught her the wrist lock he’d used on the drunken man in Five Points and she’d picked up the technique with admirable, and slightly disconcerting, skill, so she could probably do him some damage if he tried it. But at least she’d be in the bed and he’d be on the settee while he nursed his injured arm.

  But try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to pick her up against her will. A gentleman didn’t do that either.

  Heaving his third sigh since she’d entered the room, he backed away and lowered into the chair opposite the bed. “Fine, stay there. But I’m not sleeping in the bed.”

  She frowned at him. “Well that’s just silly.”

  Shrugging, he stretched out his legs in front of him and crossed his ankles.

  She stared at him before returning his shrug and straightening the blanket to drape over her.

  Snuggling down into the pillow, she closed her eyes. “Goodnight, Toby.”

  “Tobias.”

  They stayed that way for a while, her apparently falling asleep and him wondering if he’d have to stay in the chair all night, listening to the soft sound of her breathing.

  It had driven him crazy that first night on the train. Being an only child, he’d always slept alone. He remembered one night, at the age of five, when a storm raging over his house had driven him to his parents’ bedroom to ask if he could stay with them until it was over. His father had informed him that thunder was merely caused by the sudden expansion of super-heated air and was nothing to be afraid of. Then he’d sent him back to bed. Tobias had never tried it again, no matter how afraid he was.

  So sleeping in the same room as Clara, listening to her breathing, had kept him awake most of that first night. But over the following two nights he’d become used to it, so much so that on their first night at the hotel he’d actually missed the gentle sound.

  That didn’t mean, however, that he wanted to sit in a chair listening to it all night.

  “This is ridiculous,” he s
aid after a few minutes, not caring if he woke her.

  “I know,” was the immediate reply. “Go to bed.”

  He pulled his spectacles off to rub at his eyes. There was no way he was going to win. There was only one logical course of action open to him.

  Replacing the spectacles, he rose from the chair. “Fine, I’ll sleep in the bed.”

  She opened one eye, a smile curving her lips from the depths of the pillow. “Good, you’ve finally come to your senses.”

  He headed for the bedroom. “Just don’t blame me when you can’t stay awake tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight, Toby,” she said, a smile in her voice.

  Reaching the door, he turned to close it, taking one last look at her relaxing into the settee. Her loose hair covered her shoulders and her eyes were closed, her long lashes brushing the creamy skin of her cheeks.

  He reminded himself that women were a distraction, especially when they were part of his job. But he couldn’t help thinking that this particular woman was making his life a lot more interesting.

  “Goodnight, Clara,” he said. “And it’s Tobias.”

  Chapter Ten

  Clara pulled the blanket tighter around her and pressed herself into the cushions of the settee with a shiver. How could Toby have spent all night here with just the one blanket to keep him warm?

  She didn’t know how long she’d slept before waking, but it was still dark and now she couldn’t return to slumber, no matter how hard she tried. Sighing, she opened her eyes. If she didn’t do something, she’d be lying awake all night.

  Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she rose to her feet and padded across the room. Walking on the rug wasn’t so bad, but when she stepped onto the cold floor she hissed in a breath and rushed to the bedroom.

  Enough moonlight filtered in through the curtain to enable her to see the bed when she quietly opened the door. She’d intended to just go to the cupboard to find another blanket, but instead she was drawn to take a closer look at her temporary husband.

  Toby lay on his side, his breathing deep and even, dark hair curling gently over his forehead and cheek. In slumber, the seriousness he carried while awake had vanished, and his face was smooth and carefree as he slept. Despite the dusting of almost a day’s worth of beard growth darkening his jaw, he looked youthful, even a little boyish,

  A bare shoulder peeked out above the bedcovers and she realized that he must have removed his pajamas. After a moment’s indecision, she tiptoed to the foot of the bed and carefully lifted the covers. Above a bare foot, pajama pants were just visible around his ankles. So only half naked then. But still...

  Lowering the cover, she wondered if the rest of him was as warm as his hands always were.

  It was probably beautifully warm in the bed. She wouldn’t be cold in there.

  Pressing one hand to her mouth, she took a step back.

  She couldn’t.

  Could she?

  It wouldn’t be wrong. They were married, after all.

  They’d slept for three nights in the same room on the train, in bunks so close they were practically in the same bed.

  This wouldn’t be any different.

  She was cold. Surely he wouldn’t want her to be cold. He was her training agent so her welfare was part of his responsibility.

  Really, what could it hurt?

  Creeping back to the side of the bed, she shrugged the blanket from her shoulders, left it at the foot of the bed, and carefully pushed back the covers.

  He wouldn’t even have to know. She’d just stay until she was warm again.

  After all, she had let him have the bed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tobias sighed in bliss as he drifted in the twilight between slumber and wakefulness. The most wonderful sensation of warmth enveloped him. He’d never felt anything quite like it, as if he was hugging a cloud.

  A warm, soft, rose-fragranced, breathing cloud.

  His eyes snapped open.

  After a moment of sleep-addled confusion, they swiveled to the woman pressed against him.

  Clara was asleep in the bed with him, snuggled against the bare skin of his chest. Breathing in that way she had. And his arms were wrapped around her.

  How had she gotten into his bed without waking him?

  When had she gotten into his bed?

  And what in the world was he supposed to do now?

  She shifted slightly and he froze, his heart hammering. When her breathing remained slow and steady and she didn’t move again, he slowly released the breath he was holding.

  This was ridiculous; he’d have to move at some point. There had to be a way to get out of this with the minimum amount of awkwardness. He just needed a plan.

  A thought came to him – did he really want to get out of this? She was warm and soft and holding her felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He felt… content.

  Underneath the blind panic, that was.

  Maybe he could just lie still for a while and…

  She shifted again, this time drawing in a deep breath and releasing it as she opened her eyes. Slowly, she moved her head from his bare chest to look up at him.

  He was in no condition to deal with the sleepy, beautiful smile she gave him.

  “Good morning,” she said, her voice husky from sleep.

  “Good morning.” Was it his imagination or did his voice sound unusually high? He cleared his throat. “You’re in my bed.”

  “Well spotted.”

  “Why?”

  He felt rather than saw her shrug, his arms still being firmly wrapped around her as they were.

  Should he let go? He didn’t seem to be able to move.

  “I was cold,” she said.

  “You could have just taken another blanket, or asked me to go back to the settee. I would have gone.”

  “You were fast asleep and I didn’t want to disturb you. Getting in with you just seemed to make more sense. You’re warm. Why are you always so warm?”

  Right now, he felt like a blazing inferno. “I-I don’t know. I just am.”

  It was the reason he tended to wear the bare minimum to bed. The previous year, he’d bought some pajamas and found it comfortable to wear the drawstring cotton pants while he slept. Before that, he’d generally slept completely naked.

  He’d never been so glad that was no longer the case.

  “Why… um… why am I embracing you?”

  She smiled. “Don’t blame me for that. All I did was get into bed with you. You seem to have done that part all by yourself.” She moved her hand where it rested on his side at the base of his ribs, just a little.

  Suddenly, every nerve in his body was focused on that one spot.

  “I should get up,” he choked out, scrambling backwards.

  With a yelp, he plummeted off the side of the bed.

  “Toby!” Her face appeared over the edge of the mattress. “Are you all right?”

  He rolled onto his back with a wince. “Fine. I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.”

  She bit her lower lip, amusement dancing in her eyes.

  He sighed. “Oh, go ahead and laugh. I know you want to.”

  Flopping back onto the bed, she erupted into laughter.

  He sat up to see her on her back, hands pressed to her stomach as she giggled. It should have annoyed him, but instead he felt an entirely unexpected desire to laugh with her.

  The sound of her hilarity was so free and joyful. He couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to be able to laugh like that. It wasn’t that he never laughed; it was that he so rarely felt free to do so.

  “I’m so glad you’re having fun,” he said.

  She waved one hand at him, still giggling.

  He climbed to his feet, took a shirt from the armoire, and trudged to the bathroom.

  He could still hear her laughter through the closed door.

  And as he set about his morning ablutions, he found himself smiling.

  Chapter Twelve
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  Mrs. Smith’s Respectable Boarding House, 25 cents a night, 45 cents inc. meals, said the sign nailed to the wall beside the front door.

  It appeared that the definition of respectable in New York was radically different from what Clara was used to.

  A man slouched on the steps leading to the door, a smoldering cigar listing from his thin lips. From the burn marks on the front of his stained shirt, he wasn’t in the habit of snuffing it out before he fell asleep. Or passed out, whichever happened first. Although to give him his due, he did shuffle over to let them past when she and Toby approached.

  The woman who answered their knock looked them up and down before launching into her rendition of a smile. Several of her teeth were missing.

  “Mrs. Smith?” Toby said.

  “Who?” She glanced in the direction of the sign. “Oh, you mean that. No, I’m Mrs. Garvey. That sign’s been here longer’n I have. If there ever was a Mrs. Smith, she’s long gone. How can… may I help you? If you’re looking for clean rooms, reasonable rates, and good food, you’ve come to the right place. A better boarding house you won’t find anywhere in the Lower East Side. And the price is now thirty cents, fifty including meals.”

  Her sales patter didn’t say a lot for the Lower East Side. Clara took in the peeling paint on the window frames, the weeds springing up in the tiny front yard, and the stains on Mrs. Garvey’s apron. And then there was the smell. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was coming from inside the house and it made her want to stop breathing.

  “Pardon the smell,” Mrs. Garvey said, as if reading her mind. “We’ve had a small accident inside, but it’s being cleaned up right now. It’ll all be smelling fresh as a daisy in an hour.” She gave a somewhat forced laugh.

  Clara was fairly sure nowhere in New York could smell like any sort of flower, but she smiled and nodded anyway.

  “We’re not here for a room,” Toby said, taking his badge from his pocket and holding it up for her to see.

  After visiting thirteen boarding houses since that morning, they’d found that just flashing the badge and saying what they wanted worked best. And if that didn’t get them anywhere, an offer of payment for information always did.